User blog:Winter Moon/Bulls*it: A 13-year-olds school days:Chapter 5: Class= Cruel/unusual. Greasers= Unusual.
I seriously wanted to hit someone. I might get in trouble, I thought, and get detention, which would be doing nothing for an hour or so, but it wouldn't be nothing disguised as learning. I tried remembering Jimmy saying he would introduce me to the cliques, a couple hours ago. But before he could introduce me to anyone, the bell rang. In the few minutes we had to get to class, Jimmy summarized what all the cliques were like, which were tougher, which weren't. and which not to mess with. He then had to sprint off to English. I had to go to History, and employed the elegant method of bursting into random classrooms. I did this in one room upstairs, which caused the math teacher to yell at me, which caused me to make a face at him, which caused him to call me a hooligan, which caused me to make a rude gesture, which caused him to chase me to History. That had been about two hours ago. I could barely remember anything Jimmy had told me, except that A.The Nerds were likely born wearing glasses and pocket protectors.B.If the Bullies were locked in a room with a prisoner, like on that '70's show Scared straight, in a few minutes, the prisoner would be crying "Uncle".C. The Preppies were money personified.D.The Greasers likely used margarine for shampoo, and E. The only test the Jocks would pass with flying colors would be a steroid blood test. That was really all I was thinking during History, bored to within an inch of my life. I dug my copy of The Outsiders ''from my school bag, and started reading it. I didn't care about the History at all, since we were practically learning it minute by minute. (My notes had a few games of hangman, some doodles, and "Blah blah blah blah blah, oh, for all that is holy, make him shut his mouth.") The teacher was like the one in "Ferris Bueller". He might have been talking to himself, and not noticed we were there. I'm serious. But anyhow, I was reading ''The Outsiders. I liked it so far, and it actually made the Greasers and Socs sound real, as opposed to the Greasers and Preps here. I had started it a few weeks ago, and was only up to Chapter 15. I was a slow reader, but I kept at it. As always. I spent the remainder of class doing basically that:reading, doodling, and just thinking. I was never so grateful to hear a bell ring. I practically jumped out of the classroom,charged down the stairs and burst out the doors, not noticing Petey standing right in front of me. As expected, I crashed right into him, and he fell over on his butt. "Uh... crap. Sorry, man." I said, and pulled him up. "Oww..." Petey said eloqueontly. "Sorry. See ya!" I said, starting to turn away. "Wait! I mean, wait. Can you do me a favor?" He asked tentatively. "What kinda favor?" I said, not really interested. "Uhh, well, one of those grease monkeys stole my art sketchbook. It has a bunch of the drawings I've done this year, and it's a big part of my art grade. Without it, I'm definetly gonna fail." he said. "Well, we can't have that. I think they need a lesson taught to them. Now where the hell are they?" I said smoothly. "Uhh, by the autoshop. Oh, whoops. Forgot you're new here. Go to the parking lot, and it's those garages and other buildings. Are you sure you can do this? I can-" Petey blustered. "Relax. I know some maritial arts. Stay here." I left Petey standing there, looking like a puppy with his head in a vise. I vaulted the railing(not allowed), landed on the bench, sprang off (not allowed) and ran off to the autoshop. While I did this, I tried to remember the maritial arts techniques I had learned in the past month and a half between schools. I had mostly worked out, jogged, and worked on fighting in that time period. I had particularly focused on Isshin-Ryo karate. It was a bit like maritial arts combined with street fighting. I had learned the back kick, roundhouse kick, side kick, and a few others. As for punches, I learned the Chambered punch, the back fist, the Hammer fist, Haymaker, and others. I had learned a lot, considering the short time I had learned it in. Refocusing on where I was going, I hopped over a gap in the brick wall surronding the shop. I looked around, getting several nasty looks from several nasty greasies. I finally found one who was holding a sketchbook, which had P.K scratched onto it with a ballpoint oen. I approached the Greaser holding it, tensed myself, and said "Hey, you got something that ain't yours. Hand it over." " Yeah, uh, screw ya, kid. You don't know who ya're messing with." He drawled. I heard a couple of the other greasies saying things like "Ooh, Peanut's mad now." "Watch out..." "Dammit." I growled. It was quickly becoming my catchphrase. "You know a good book?" I said to the strangely named Peanut, who was tightening his fists. "The adventures of Knuckleberry Finn." I slugged him in the chin. He seemed to be expecting it, as he ducked, and tried a below the belt hit. I dodged, and pivoted on my right foot, bringing out a roundhouse kick. I caught him in the chest, but he didn't go down. He snatched up a 2x4, and swung like I was a home run. He did catch me pretty hard on the arm, but I managed to catch the board. And then caught him in the face with a haymaker. This time he dropped like a bad habit. Breathing hard, I snatched up the book, when I felt fingers wrapping around my arm. I looked to see who the fingers belonged to. It was a girl who appeared to be a year or so older than me, with a leather jacket and leather pants that looked so tight, they looked like oil. She said, in a voice that was so soppy and cute, that it would've made a baby kitten puke: "I just ''love ''a boy who can fight." There was a boy who looked about sixteen who looked crestfallen, and looked like he would hit someone. It seemed like she was his girlfriend. Either that, or he was sad because he had so much grease in his hair that he looked like an oil well. "Uh, sorry. Not into older girls." I said nonchalantly. It was like I dropped a bomb. The older boy looked as surprised as if I just mooned him. The rest of the Greasers looked uneasy, like they knew what was coming. The girl looked like she would cry, or stab me in the stomach, or both. "Everyone loves Lola! EVERYONE!" She screamed, to nobody in particular. " "Great, but I'm not everyone. I'm just me." With that, I left the Greasers, still surprised, and ran off, back to the Boys dorm. Petey was waiting outside, and looked like I was handing him the Holy grail when I gave him his sketchbook. "Aw, thanks, Will." he said, really sounding thankful. "No prob." I said boredly. "So, how much did you have to pay them?" he asked cheerfully. "Nothing. I beat one of them up, took the book, some crazy chick named Lola tried flirting with me, I turned her down, and-" "WHAT?! You're crazy, Will! I didn't mean for you to fight them. I meant for-" "You never said anything about not fighting them!" I said, getting annoyed. "Look. You got your book back, I'm right here, I'm okay, you're okay. Bye-bye." I said, turning away. "Bye!" he called. I couldn't wait to get into my room. I'd had a rough day. I had some reading to do. Category:Blog posts